


Reinstall

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26038141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Markus comes by.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	Reinstall

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Even on such a beautiful, bright day, Carl’s house has lost some of its luster—the gardens aren’t being tended as well as they were before, though clearly someone’s _trying_. The hedge isn’t as neat, the flowers have a few withering stems, and no one’s bothered to sweep the fallen leaves off the driveway. Markus isn’t surprised that his thirium pump skips a beat over the view. A mixture of _emotions_ swell inside, the same kind that first awoke in this very place: Markus attributes so much of who he is to _Carl_. He hasn’t been back since Carl passed, and he didn’t think he ever would.

But he’s been told by several different androids that a specific human’s asking after him, and as much as he’d like to pretend Leo Manfred never existed, it isn’t so easy. It tugs at him, curiosity like a code only half-written, protocols in an infinite loop that ultimately go nowhere—it eats away at his system until he’s finally wandering up the white path. He stands on the porch, waiting, but he isn’t truly surprised that the doors don’t open for him. There’s something hollow about the computer not announcing and welcoming him. He bypasses that reaction and hits the doorbell, just like any human visitor.

Then he waits, longer than a human might, for the doors to open manually. Leo Manfred stands on the other side, just like Markus expected. He looks better than the last time—better than in his messages from the hospital. Rehab’s been kind to him. His cheeks have filled out more, the colour back to his skin, and his eyes aren’t so red, but there’s still a palpable sorrow in them that Markus now shares. Losing Carl pains him every day. It’s because of Carl that he’s come back. Carl died before android rights were in the constitution, before he could will anything to his _other_ son, but Markus knows he could’ve fought that. He didn’t. Leo needs it more than him, and no matter what Leo’s done to him, Markus can still see a part of Carl in Leo’s close-shaven face.

Leo looks at him awkwardly, opens up, then closes, maybe fishing for the right words. Finally he offers a quiet, “Hi.” 

Markus returns simply, “Hi.”

He doesn’t know how this is going to go. But he knows where he stands with everything, so he leaves the ball in Leo’s court. Leo shifts his weight onto the other foot and blurts out, “Sorry, I... they changed the locks when they signed the house over. To me, I mean. Apparently dad left it for me. I didn’t...” He pauses, biting his bottom lip before asking, “Do you wanna come in for coffee or something?”

Maybe Markus appreciates the gesture. His internal guard’s up so high that it’s hard to tell. He knows Leo means it as a gesture but still says, “I don’t drink.”

“Right. Right... of course...” A light blush settles over Leo’s cheeks. He seems to be struggling with himself, maybe with the sight of Markus, and then he sighs, “Look, I’m... sorry. For everything. I mean... I don’t even know where to start.”

Markus just blinks—he wasn’t expecting that. He _never_ expected that. North always says that human words mean nothing; the damage is all done, and apologies can’t fix a thing. But Markus can see the sincerity in Leo, and it _does_ mean something to him. 

“Dad mentioned you in the will.”

Markus nods without meaning to. He’d thought so. He’d _hoped_ so. But at the time, he couldn’t exactly walk into a lawyer’s office and check.

Leo tells him, “He couldn’t leave you anything, so... I guess I got it all... but he did _ask_ me to take care of you. I mean... it doesn’t seem like you need it, but... but I want to. Not just because Dad wanted it, but because it’s the right thing to do. I get it. I was shit before, still kind of am... but I’m eight months sober, and I’m trying to do better. Most of all, I want to do better by you. So... tell me if you ever need something. Anything. Hell, I’d... I’d like you to stay here if... if you wanted to...”

Markus’ processors are going into overdrive. It’s a lot at once. So much. He runs through every word that Leo says, checking if it’s a _lie_ , knowing that it’s not, spinning off in a thousand different calculations for how this new information can affect his life. _He missed this house._

He doesn’t need it. He wonders how many of Carl’s paintings are still inside—if Leo sold them off or if enough money came in to stay his hand. If he was well enough to manage. If the enormous sculpture of a giraffe is still in the corner of the living room and if the bristling cat figuring is still in the bedroom. Where all the skulls went, the posts, the piano, the books—Carl’s taste and touch is everywhere. That overload of _art_ provided so much stimulation. Nothing else has even come close. 

But Markus doesn’t need a bed to sleep on, and Leo does. In a way, this visit was already worth it, just to know that Leo’s doing well. Despite North’s curses, he hasn’t held the grudge. Deep down, he knows he _wanted_ Leo to get better, wanted Carl’s legacy to live on. He tells Leo, “Thank you, but I don’t need to stay anywhere.”

Leo winces, like he’d expected as much but it’s still not what he wanted. He weakly counters, “But... you need somewhere to... power down or whatever... right?”

That’s true. He does. And he has a dozen places for that—androids that have acquired property, and everyone is happy to have him. He never thought that Leo would be too. Leo looks so hopeful that it breaks Markus down, and his next protest is halfhearted. “I don’t want to impose.”

Leo reaches forward. Maybe Markus should jerk back at that motion from a human, but he doesn’t, and Leo’s hand only encircles his wrist, squeezing lightly, giving a little tug—like he’ll be able to pull Markus over the threshold and back into his life _just like that_. Leo says, “Please.”

The last part of Markus that resented this man crumbles. He knows enough of human addiction to understand that this Leo is different, this one needs a clean state, and it feels so _right_ for Markus to let himself be guided into the lobby. Everything’s exactly how he left it—Carl’s lift is still by the stairs, and the birds are on, chirping happily from their golden cage. Leo gives an awkward smile and an uneasy laugh. Then he gives Markus a broken hug and mutters, “Welcome home.”


End file.
